Emergency Drop
by James Holden
Summary: The fate of Sauria and ultimately the Lylat system rests on the shoulders of a profiteer from a distant galaxy and the sole survivor of a doomed world. Oh, and an Anaconda, but after that *expertly* executed bit of lithobraking I suspect it won't be of much help. Mileage from onboard ship-launched fighter may vary. What could possibly go wrong? Elite: Dangerous/ Star Fox Adventures


_"WARNING: FRAMESHIFT CONDUIT UNSTABLE!_ "

Although the _Vanguard'_ s command deck was buried deep within its hull, two-meter tall flight-screens lining the forward bulkhead provided an uninterrupted view of the dark, nebulous expanse of Witchspace uncontrollably pitching, twisting, and rolling as an unseen Thargoid pursuer bore down on the Anaconda-class light frigate from directly aft, its Alcubierre bubble firmly in the grip of the nightmarish alien vessel.

The deck's sole occupant, a figure clad in a Remlok flight suit and seated at the helm position, seemed almost oblivious to both the nauseous display ahead and the metallic groaning reverberating through the command deck as the _Vanguard'_ s structural members strained against involuntary maneuvers the stately, one-hundred-and-fifty meter long craft was never intended to perform. He gripped the seat-mounted side-stick with a single gloved hand, more out of habit than any possible use during a hyperjump, while his other flew over the command console mounted just below the various holographic displays encircling his position.

Soon, his efforts were rewarded by a soft _click_ \- barely audible over the cacophony of his Anaconda's frameshift drive fighting a losing match of tug-of-war against the alien craft rapidly bearing down on him, all the while hurtling through the barely-understood dimension of Witchspace at velocities that told humanity's current model of physics in no uncertain terms to go and fuck itself. Satisfied, he lifted the clear synthplas guard over a particular switch labeled "FSD Manual Override" and flipped it with a gloved finger.

 _"WARNING: DRIVE SAFETIES DISENGAGED."_

In spite of the generally unpleasant circumstances of being a Thargoid's quarry, Commander Mark Jrichtson grinned and leaned back slightly in his seat. "Thanks. I might have missed it otherwise." He grasped the secondary throttle with his left hand -the first increment would send the ship into supercruise, while the second ordered the FSD to charge for a hyperjump, provided the _Vanguard'_ s bow was aligned with the target destination. At the moment, he had no intention of pushing the small lever to either.

During standard operation, the throttle's only "negative" increment -marked "E-D" in unmistakeable red lettering- was locked out of use by automated safeties hard-coded into the light frigate's drive control systems, and for good reason. With said safeties deactivated and the throttle pulled back, the secondary throttle would briefly cut the juice flowing from the seventy-two-point-six metric ton fusion powerplant into the Anaconda's active frameshift drive, violently hurling the entire ship back into realspace. Performed in supercruise, it was a tactic of last resort intended to shake a vastly superior foe.

To Mark's knowledge, no Commander had ever executed the maneuver mid-hyperjump and lived to tell the tale.

"There's a first time for everything." He hesitated slightly, glancing up at the viewscreens before him. There was a tiny pinprick of light at the end of the infinite tunnel of Witchspace. That was bad. Very bad. His EM Shutdown countermeasures were all but depleted, and if he was pulled out now...well, a shieldless and disabled Anaconda was no match for a Thargoid. Fresh images sprung to mind - dozens of the the radial, almost cnidarian shapes of Thargoid Cyclopses and Basilisks that resembled grotesque hybrids of plant and insect surrounding the four-kilometer long Ocellus-class station, their actinic yellow tendrils of lightning carving up the orbiting city's hull. The same weapons tearing through the assorted, hastily-scrambled evacuation ships as they left New Tevarin's atmosphere.

He shook the thoughts from his head. The aperture ahead had grown considerably, now easily visible with zero magnification on the screen's part. He'd been lucky so far - the average hyperdiction measured only seconds. In a moment, he'd know if it had held.

Mark slammed back the frameshift control throttle as far as the damn thing would go.


End file.
